


Family Matters

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26322775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By MJ.Pippin's sisters have something to say about his and Merry's relationship.
Relationships: Merry Brandybuck/Pippin Took
Kudos: 1
Collections: Least Expected





	Family Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs. I have merely borrowed them for these adventures and will never make a cent from them.  
>  Story Notes: Follows [A Tale of the Tookland](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26321440). (Love those Tookland burrs.)

Every day, from right before sunrise until well after sunset, the Main Kitchen at Great Smials rang with the sounds of cheerful voices, clattering pots and cutlery, an almost endless boiling and sizzling, and a great deal of laughter. Huge amounts of food made its way through this hub and three smaller kitchens, which was in no way surprising, as the population inhabiting this immense bank was rivaled only by that at Brandy Hall. (Although the average Took would claim that no Brandybuck could ever rival his western cousin either in appetite or total quantity of foods consumed.) 

With all of the noise and flurry, apparently just two steps short of total chaos, a stranger to this domain might suppose that no one was in charge, particularly since the hurry and scurry seemed to far outweigh the filling of plates and platters. 

It would not take them long, however, to realize their error. 

"You will do no such thing, Master Pippin!" Mrs. Proddle loomed over the little table like a sudden summer squall, one hand waving the still-sizzling skillet. "Why, the very idea! Just you sit your place like your Papa's only son and let me do the cookin'. We don't need any fancy East Farthin' griddle buns in _my_ kitchen!" She scooped several thick links of perfectly browned sausage onto each of their plates. "Now, you just start on these while I turn them cakes over." With a lightness born of many years worth of dodging enthusiastic young kitchen help, she wheeled and was back at the central stove before the griddle knew she was gone. 

Merry grinned and blew on a forkful of sausage. "Give it up, my lad. Never try to teach a new song to an old Cook. You'll end up battered and fried and served to yourself on a steaming platter!" 

"I know. But it was worth a try, wasn't it?" Happily wielding knife and fork, Pippin cut through the first fragrant bite and held it up to his nose, inhaling the rising steam. "I think I've forgotten Mrs. Marshwood already." 

Merry laughed and they set to with as much vigor and delight as hunger and dexterity would allow, tucked away in their own little corner across the room from the two big stone hearths. Here, they and their little table remained cleverly out of the way of the surrounding hustle and bustle of a typical morning's cookery, yet close enough to Cook's own station to make for easy transport of her toothsome offerings to the Thain's son and his bosom companion. 

In truth, they could have had breakfast in one of the four large and busy dining rooms on their first morning back at Great Smials, but the little table had long been a favorite retreat for both of them, especially when events had conspired over the years to focus attention unerringly in their direction, as was again bound to happen when news of their setting up house together became widely known. 

Merry took a second bite of exceptional sausage and winked at Cook, who was now slipping the first of several fluffy battercakes onto his plate. "I was wondering, Mrs. Proddle - could you use another son?" 

Cook snorted and tapped her fork smartly against the edge of the serving platter. "Now don't you take this wrong, Master Brandybuck..." Her eyes narrowed. "But if I'd had a son like you, I'd a'taken myself off to them forrin' parts Old Mr. Bilbo used to carry on about, 'afore I pulled every last hair out of my head." 

Pippin burst out laughing. "Oh, I knew there was a reason I loved you, Mrs. Proddle. And not just for your excellent table!" He stuffed a huge bite of sausage and cake into his mouth, still laughing. 

Merry glanced at Cook's twinkling eyes and picked up the honey jar, carefully pouring a golden stream over the beautiful stack of cakes. Assuming an expression of sorrowful dignity he'd often seen his father use (particularly when confronted by an exasperated Esmeralda), he said calmly, "That's perfectly fine. I understand. Not everyone is able to appreciate the extraordinary qualities of a Brandybuck such as myself. Scoff if you will, but I do not doubt my handsome face will be missed when I have gone on to greater things." 

Cook's laughter built slowly, until she was shaking all over like a fresh apple dumpling. "I don't doubt you'll soon enough land in the middle of things _some_ folks might call less than great, laddie." She set the platter and fork down with a thump, plump little hands darting to grab an ear apiece and tugging gently. "The best place for any Brandybuck I've known, or any Took for that matter, is settin' at my table with a mouth full of vittles. Traipsin' about hither and yon is for those without a lick a'sense nor any good home as what you two've got." Retrieving fork and platter, she said sternly, "Now, I've got my pots and pans to see to and plates to fill, so mind your forks and knives and don't let me see a scrap left!" 

"No ma'am!" "Not us!" "Every scrap!" "Thank you!" 

Still chuckling, Mrs. Proddle headed back to the center of activity, where she was soon sorting out a muddle involving two trays of coddled eggs and three of herb and onion omelets. 

Both young hobbits spent the next several minutes concentrating on thick stacks of honey-covered battercakes and the rest of the sausage. In fact, Pippin was on his last bite but one before he voiced the thought that had been rolling around in his head. 

"What shall we do with the rest of our morning? I expect it's not gone nine yet and we don't have to meet with Papa until this afternoon." 

Merry swallowed a last bite of cake and reached for his tea cup. "Well, I'd like to see if Ferdi's here and ask him if he's still got those two mares he had in June. They'd cross very well with my father's best stud, if he'd like to sell them." 

Pippin nodded and tossed his napkin onto his plate. "He's probably somewhere about. We can ask Dandy down at the stable. And we could look at those colts you had your eye on last..." With a sudden smile, Pippin stopped, glanced past Merry's shoulder and winked. 

Before Merry could open his mouth, much less turn around, two sets of warm fingers covered his eyes while a soft voice whispered past the tip of his ear, "Guess who...?" 

But that was far too easy. "Miss Pervinca Took, if my nose serves me right!" 

"Your nose?" The fingers were snatched abruptly away. "Your nose! Why, Meriadoc Brandybuck, how rude can you..." 

"Lilac." Merry swung round in his chair and grinned at the young hobbit lass standing behind him. "You use lilac scent." 

Pervinca stared down her nose a moment longer, then suddenly grinned, her round face rosy in the heat of the kitchen. "Why, yes, so I do. How clever you must think you are. Would you like some?" She tossed her head, tumbling the mass of rich brown curls around her shoulders. 

"No, thank you." Merry chuckled and plucked at a stray curl waving under her chin. "I don't believe it would suit me as well as it does you." 

She sniffed. "No doubt beeswax and alfalfa would suit you better. Or pony dandruff." 

Pippin snorted with laughter. "Oh, no, that won't do, Palinca!" He grinned at the flash in her eyes. The nickname had been the easiest thing a tiny younger brother could pronounce when he'd finally been old enough to toddle along, hands fisted in her skirts. "You've looked us out for a reason. Now what is it?" 

She crossed her arms, head tilted to one side. "Maybe I just miss your sweet faces." 

Two heads shook slowly in unison and Pippin rolled his eyes. "You saw us two weeks ago." 

With another toss of her head, Pervinca snorted. "That's right and it's far too soon to see you again, if you want the truth. But I must. And so must Pimpernel. We have..." She paused dramatically and peered knowingly into the rafters. "...Things to Say." Lowering her sharp little chin, she grinned, eyelashes fluttering. "I'm here to tell you to meet us for lunch in Pearl's sitting room." 

Pippin glanced at Merry. "But we..." 

Pervinca slapped the table. "No buts, brother." 

So Merry tried. "We were going to..." 

"No! Lunch in Pearl's sitting room, with Pepper and me, half past one, on the dot!" Gathering her skirts, she stuck out her tongue and skipped lightly out of the kitchen. 

"Sisters!" Pippin grabbed his cup and quickly swallowed the last of his tea. "Sometimes I could..." He shrugged and laughed. "Oh, well. Come on! We'll just have time if we can figure out where Ferdi is in the next fifteen minutes!" 

But since it was only nine o'clock, the visit with Ferdi took place with time to spare and for several hours the talk was all of bloodlines and broodmares and why Millbank Daisy's colts crossed so well with Belle of West Farthing's fillies. All in all, it was a totally delightful morning and when lunchtime came, high spirits carried them to Pearl's sitting room with no thought of the whys or the wherefores. The Thain's family quarters were all on the east side of the bank and were some of the oldest and most comfortably furnished rooms in all of Great Smials. It so happened that Pearl's sitting room was the largest amongst the sister's and so was often picked as a convenient meeting place for the siblings and their closest friends. And now that Pearl was herself married and living one bank over, there was no need to check whether the rooms were available or not. 

When Merry and Pippin arrived, Pimpernel was just placing the last setting on the maplewood table. Across the room, on a very fine sideboard, sat a multitude of platters, covered dishes, and iced pitchers. 

Stopping two paces over the threshold, Merry drew in a deep, slow breath, held it, then sighed in heartfelt appreciation. "Mmm. Chicken hash. With chestnuts?" 

"Exactly, Master Brandybuck." Pimpernel propped both fists on her hips, a saucy tilt to her head. "And Cook added spinach, and smothered everything with a decently aged cheddar. Now, no more talking, lads. You will serve yourselves and eat as much as you like of everything. There's more than enough!" 

And of course, since this was the Thain's household, there was far more than enough, and since formality was of no consequence, plates were rapidly filled, chairs were occupied and the sound of clattering cutlery filled the air. 

Pippin was the first to break the cheerfully busy silence. "Has Pearl been by since the last time we were here?" 

"Oh, yes. She's quite well." Pimpernel placed her fork carefully on her plate before lifting her glass of chilled wine. "She spent several days here last week. And Mother says she's expecting again." 

"That's number three, isn't it?" Merry caught Pimpernel's eye and winked. "Do you suppose it'll be a girl this time?" 

She shook her head, a wry smile lifting one corner of her mouth. "Papa thinks she does it on purpose. No, Perky, he does!" Pervinca had giggled, hiccuping into her tea. "Mother was laughing about it just yesterday. Papa claims Pearl wants to drive him distracted with muddy little curly-tops." Pimpernel put her wine down and shook her head, the neatly capped curls shifting not an inch. "As if she could choose..." 

"Well, I say Papa's playing us all a trick." Pervinca picked up the dish of lemon tart and served them each a large helping. "And he doesn't mean a word of what he says. But I _do_ know that our Pearl means exactly what _she_ says and she says that you, dear brother, will soon be setting up your own household." She set the lemony spoon down and lifted her brows at Merry. "As will you, my dear Meriadoc. All at the same time _and_ in the same place, if you can believe it!" A wide grin shoved her cheeks into two pink mounds. "Pepper and I think she's right. Only it's already happened, hasn't it?" 

To Pimpernel's credit, she managed not to laugh: both her brother and Merry had blushed deep rosy red and seemed hard put to look any higher than the edge of their plates. Glancing sharply at her sister, she reclaimed her wine glass and lifted it high. "Shall we have a toast, Pervinca?" 

"Yes, let's do!" Pervinca raised her mug of tea. "A toast to dear Pearl." 

"Yes, to Pearl! She knew a long time ago that this would happen." 

Ignoring the startled reaction this announcement caused, the sisters drank long and deep, emptying glass and mug before lowering them to the table. 

"But..." Pippin blinked bewildered eyes and tried again. "But how... When?" 

Pimpernel's grin was politely smug. "She knew it the day Merry tied you to his coatails after you climbed to the top of the bank and jumped off." Picking up her spoon, she scooped up a dainty mouthful of lemon tart. 

Merry blinked in confusion. "But _I_ didn't even know..." 

"Ha and ha." Pervinca's superior expression came from long years of practice. "That's because you are not a female and therefore far less intelligent than we are." 

Pippin laughed and threw his roll, but it merely bounced off her nose and landed in the remnants of the creamed potatoes. "Intelligent? I know three conies, two bluejays and one squirrel who could put you to the mark, dear sister." 

Quick as a flash, her spoon darted out, leaving a lemony blob hanging neatly from the tip of Pippin's nose. They all laughed as he scooped it off and tucked it away behind his teeth with a satisfied grin. 

But Merry's laughter faded quickly and he sat for a moment, fingering the stem of his glass, a tiny frown drawing his brows together. "What will they all say, I wonder. All these Tooks and Took relations, when they know." He looked up, smiling a little at the warmth in Pippin's eyes. "We shall be in for it in some quarters. You especially. I'm a Brandybuck. They expect me to be peculiar. But you.." His voice died away. 

Pippin sucked his bottom lip, reminded once more of worries he'd thought forgotten. "And everyone _will_ know and sooner rather than later, if I know this place." 

Pimpernel snorted. "Don't be such geese, you two. A trothing such as this is not uncommon and you know it. It's just that you're both going to be heads of your families and I'm pretty sure that for the first time, silly aunts and old uncles won't be able to curry any favor by pretending to adore every baby you make!" She shrugged. "And besides, quite a few of our relatives won't credit the whole thing. They won't believe the future Thain could dream of not having pockets full of babies, just as if there's rules about things like that." 

"She's right and I'd not let it worry you." Pervinca scrunched her nose up and shivered. "There _is_ such a thing as too many babies, you know. And besides..." She studied them both with sparkling eyes and said quietly, "...you love each other. You always have and always will. So that's that." 

Pimpernel dabbed her napkin around the edges of her lips and placed it back on her lap. "Yes, indeed. Sheet entanglements are none of anyone else's business." 

Pervinca nodded, cheeks glowing a little pinker than usual. "Unless, of course, you want advice on ways and means. Mother speaks highly of sweetmallow. Better than early cream, she says." 

Pippin's mouth worked silently for several seconds before he glanced at Merry. Chuckling at his expression, Pippin shook his head. "I suppose it's no use blushing around these two, cousin. Pepper's getting married at Yuletide and Palinca..." He ducked. "Perky... has got her eye on Bardo Hornblower, although I'm not sure he knows it yet." 

Merry leaned back in his chair and grinned resignedly. "I give up. We are found out, Peregrin Took, and there is no going back!" He closed his eyes and sighed. "Sweetmallow indeed..." 

"Come on, you two, let's finish up." Pervinca poured the last of the tea. "Cook expects nothing back but empty platters and dishes!" 

By two-thirty on the dot, not a scoop or a scrap was left, the kitchen bell had been rung and Pimpernel announced that she was due to help her mother in the flower gardens. Placing a firm kiss upon both their foreheads, she looked hard at Merry, then at Pippin. "For some reason, Pearl thinks this is all very special. For my part, I think you'll do quite well." She hesitated. "Just avoid Aunt Persiflage for a while." With a quick wink, she stepped softly to the door and was gone. 

"I must go as well." Pervinca pushed a stray curl behind her ear and stood. "The Tuckburrow Sewing Circle is meeting in the Best Parlor and I'm showing them my new apron." Blushing at Pippin's disbelieving stare, she huffed a little, then laughed. "Well, if you must know the truth, not only are they the feistiest bunch of ladies I've ever met, but Bardo's Gran practically runs the thing! Give Papa my love!" And in a whirl of skirts, she slipped through the door. 

"An apron." 

"That's what she said." 

"But, Merry! Perky? In the Tuckburrow Sewing Circle?" Pippin chuckled and shook his head. "Do you suppose she's finally learned how to thread a needle?" Still chuckling, he stood and grabbed his jacket, slipping it on as he walked to the door. 

"Oh, ho! I doubt it!" Merry shook out his own jacket, eyeing what appeared to be a loose button. "Remember that thing she made to wear for Pearl's wedding? Did you ever figure out what it was?" 

"No. I gave up. But she swore it was a hat." Pippin grinned and leaned against the doorjamb, easing the bottom three buttons of his waistcoat open. Their meeting with the Thain wasn't for another hour and a half and his own rooms weren't that far away... 

"Merry? You remember what you were telling me about, last night? You know, that thing with the gravy boat?" 

Merry's head jerked up. "Yes?" 

"Well, I thought we might go down to my rooms and you could make things a bit clearer. Like, what actually goes where and..." But all thoughts of the gravy boat were shunted to the side by the sound of running feet coming up the hall. Frowning, Pippin leaned through the door. "That can't be the kitchen..." 

"Pippin!" Skirts swirling round her legs, Pervinca skidded to a stop. "Pepper forgot...! I mean, I forgot to ask you something!" She caught her breath, curls springing every which way, then stared him straight in the eye, her little face pink and eager in the flickering glow of the lamps. "What's it like? You know. Being in love? Really. Is it all moons and stars and rainbows, and cherry tarts and, and... well, good things?" 

Pippin grabbed both of her hands and clasped them tightly in his own. "In one word, Palinca: yes." He chuckled at the expression in her eyes. "And in a great many more words, it's so far beyond those things, you know down to the tips of your toes that every day begins and ends just for you. And every bite you sup, or drink you swallow, couldn't possibly taste any better. And when his hands touch me and everything gets shivery and hot and..." Pippin gulped, the heat rising in his cheeks. "Well, anyway. For me, being in love means finding out I've got this whole other Pippin inside, but he's still me! Only more, and nicer, and happier... Oh, Perky." He pulled her close and kissed the one curl-free spot on her forehead. "Some of it's stars and rainbows and cherry tarts, but the rest of it's waking up every day knowing that there's two arms just for you, and a heart that won't let you be sad, no matter how bad things get." 

Pervinca slipped her hands out of her brother's and placed them gently against his rosy cheeks, whispering, "I thought so." Standing on tiptoe, she kissed the tip of his nose. "Thank you!" With a suddeness that made Pippin gasp, she whirled lightly around and went running up the hall shouting, "Pepper! It's okay! You're perfectly fine, Pippin says so! Pepperrrr!" 

Pippin turned and tapped his forehead gently against the edge of the door several times. "Dear Perky." 

"Bardo is in for it, isn't he?" Merry stepped up from behind, slipping both arms around Pippin's waist. 

"I almost feel sorry for him. Almost." Pippin turned round in the encircling arms until he was nose to nose with Merry. "He'll just have to keep his sense of humor in one piece. Like I do." 

Merry brushed his cheek against Pippin's, inhaling the rich scents of pipeweed, lemon pudding and ponies. "Is that what you do to keep me happy? That is, besides making me shivery. And hot..." 

"Oh, no, indeed, Merry mine." Pippin cleverly touched the tip of his tongue to a certain spot right behind Merry's ear, felt him shiver all over. "What I do needs a big bed..." He ran his tongue along the edge of Merry's jaw and across his bottom lip. "...and maybe... some sweetmallow." 

Merry growled low in his throat. "Then if you please, I know where to find both. And they're barely a jam jar away..." 

Now, with one exception, the rooms along this particular corridor were all empty, as lunchtime at Great Smials, with its overflowing tables and satisfying aftermath, was eagerly attended and seldom missed. 

But Aunt Persiflage didn't take lunch in the dining rooms. It was far too nervewracking for her constitution. 

But she could certainly guess what was taking place in the hallway outside of her sitting room. And she had no intention of looking, for even the smallest peek would mean a hefty dose of smelling salts afterwards. 

Besides, she'd just pulled a new bit of thread through the needle, a beautiful shade of deep green. Perfect for that last bit of canvas that needed filling... 

The rollicking 'whoop' not a stone's throw down the hall sent the embroidery hoop spinning across the room. With a gasp, Aunt Persiflage grabbed the arms of her chair, daintly lace cap swinging from one ear, saucer-wide eyes rolling slowly toward the door. 

The smelling salts. By all that was... Where...? Groping blindly, she reached in the pocket of her dressing gown. 

With a sudden clatter, the embroidery hoop rolled to a stop and fell against the polished wooden floor, followed almost immediately by an extraordinary yodel not an inch from the other side of her door. 

Not beyond a yodel of her own, Aunt Persiflage jumped to her feet, the tiny round bottle clutched tightly in one trembling fist, the fingers of her free hand scrabbling with the stopper. 

Silence. 

She cocked her head, lips pressed tightly together. 

Were they...? 

The heavy thud sent her three feet sideways and she gripped the bottle to her bosom. 

The squeak took her aback and drew her brows together. 

But the moan sent mouse feet scurrying across the waistband of her corset and she drew in a deep breath. 

Yes indeed, a very large dose of smelling salts... 

She popped the cork. 

...in advance. 

End.


End file.
